I’ve always known I have the best dad in the world. This is not a hard one to figure out. My dad Gary is a wonderful, smart, talented man who truly cares about the people around him. I am incredibly lucky to have him in my life, a fact even more evident with the great expanse of globe currently between us.
But evidently the universe didn’t think one incredible father was enough. Because I am here to tell you that not only to I have the best dad in the world, but I also have the best Pahpa in the world. Hands down.
Being with and getting to know my Pahpa Ioney (Yo-knee) has been one of my biggest joys. He is easily the kindest and most generous man I have met on this island. And he is so full of happiness and laughter that he is simply a delight to be around.
My Pahpa is also extremely intelligent. He may not have finished high school, but he can navigate his fishing boat in the black of night without any lights, using only the stars to guide him back through the treacherous reef and safely home (rumor has it he’s the only fisherman in the area with this particular skill). He can wander off into the jungle and return with plants to cure any number of ailments. He can construct beds, tables, chairs, and even houses in a matter of hours using crude tools and incredible craftsmanship. And he can fix literally anything around the compound (a leaky pipe or roof, a broken door handle, an old boat engine) while carrying a child on his shoulders and a smile on his lips. He is an amazing man.
My Nohno, my sister Ioren, and I joke that I am my Pahpa’s princess. He calls me “his girl”. He goes out of his way to do unsolicited nice things for me (like scaling one of the coconut trees to get me a drinking coconut on a hot afternoon), and I’ve already mentioned before about his tendency to overly prepare my food for me (cutting up large chunks of meat or removing bones). Initially the latter drove me nuts. I took it as a sign of disrespect or mistrust of my capabilities. But now I know better. That’s just my Pahpa, doing anything and everything he can for me because he cares about me. Now I simply smile and let him pour my drink for me because he thinks the kettle is too hot for me to handle. It’s his way to take care of me, and I am enormously grateful.
Communication with my Pahpa has been a goal I’ve been working toward since the beginning. He has the least English of anyone in my family (in a year I’ve heard him say exactly three things in English: “airport”, “one thousand”, and “yellow fin tuna”), and he also unfortunately is now almost completely deaf due to his career as a fisherman. (The repeated diving for years has taken a toll). But my Pahpa is infinitely patient with me, skilled at lip-reading, and is also a world-champion at charades.
Tonight, multiple elements of our relationship converged into one experience: crab for dinner. I’ve eaten fresh crab many times before (yum!), and of course my Pahpa always prepares the crab for me. He painstakingly cracks open the shell with his hands and squeezes all of the meat out onto a plate and then hands it to me with his wonderful, partially tooth-less smile. Not only do I adore this, but I really appreciate it because I have got absolutely no clue how to get the meat out of a crab shell. Well, tonight I decided that it was time I learned, so my Pahpa gladly took on the duty of teaching me.
Now, as part of their continued assistance in my language learning, my family members have come to know how to best explain things to me and which words to use to ensure I understand. But, since my Pahpa can’t actually hear any of the things we talk about, he has no knowledge of my vocabulary. So our crab lesson began with several strings of sentences that I completely didn’t understand. But, our trusty failsafe—charades—came through in a big way and I was eventually able to liberate some meat from the crab legs. All the while, my Nohno looked on and howled with laughter at my incompetence and my Pahpa giggled happily at my determination. It was a wonderful experience.
And as a reward for my success, my Pahap scooped a particularly colorful meat blob out of the main body cavity and excitedly plopped it on my plate and told me to try it. Here’s were communicating with my Pahpa is literally essential. What am I about to put in my mouth? I obviously don’t know all the Pohnpeian words for internal organs, so I began to panic and steal glances at my Nohno who was now overwhelmed by her laughter and completely unable to assist me. I Pahpa just continued to point to his own abdomen and enthusiastically insist that I eat it. In some alternate universe, I might have tried to politely refuse this mystery meat, but instead I did what you do when you get offered questionable food in the Peace Corps: I just ate it. And you know what? I was quite tasty. My Pahpa was literally giddy with happiness.
When I came here, I expected to become close to my family, to sincerely care for them and wish good things for their futures. But I guess I didn’t expect the deep, genuine love and admiration that I feel for my Pahpa. He has lived a life far different from my own and it is likely that we will never fully understand each other, but he is an incredible man and I am lucky to know him.
I think this, these personal connections are what Peace Corps is really about. We are here under the guise of working as teachers, but we’re really here to get covered in slimy crab meat with our Pahpas.
And I’m totally okay with that.
--Christy
But evidently the universe didn’t think one incredible father was enough. Because I am here to tell you that not only to I have the best dad in the world, but I also have the best Pahpa in the world. Hands down.
Being with and getting to know my Pahpa Ioney (Yo-knee) has been one of my biggest joys. He is easily the kindest and most generous man I have met on this island. And he is so full of happiness and laughter that he is simply a delight to be around.
My Pahpa is also extremely intelligent. He may not have finished high school, but he can navigate his fishing boat in the black of night without any lights, using only the stars to guide him back through the treacherous reef and safely home (rumor has it he’s the only fisherman in the area with this particular skill). He can wander off into the jungle and return with plants to cure any number of ailments. He can construct beds, tables, chairs, and even houses in a matter of hours using crude tools and incredible craftsmanship. And he can fix literally anything around the compound (a leaky pipe or roof, a broken door handle, an old boat engine) while carrying a child on his shoulders and a smile on his lips. He is an amazing man.
My Nohno, my sister Ioren, and I joke that I am my Pahpa’s princess. He calls me “his girl”. He goes out of his way to do unsolicited nice things for me (like scaling one of the coconut trees to get me a drinking coconut on a hot afternoon), and I’ve already mentioned before about his tendency to overly prepare my food for me (cutting up large chunks of meat or removing bones). Initially the latter drove me nuts. I took it as a sign of disrespect or mistrust of my capabilities. But now I know better. That’s just my Pahpa, doing anything and everything he can for me because he cares about me. Now I simply smile and let him pour my drink for me because he thinks the kettle is too hot for me to handle. It’s his way to take care of me, and I am enormously grateful.
Communication with my Pahpa has been a goal I’ve been working toward since the beginning. He has the least English of anyone in my family (in a year I’ve heard him say exactly three things in English: “airport”, “one thousand”, and “yellow fin tuna”), and he also unfortunately is now almost completely deaf due to his career as a fisherman. (The repeated diving for years has taken a toll). But my Pahpa is infinitely patient with me, skilled at lip-reading, and is also a world-champion at charades.
Tonight, multiple elements of our relationship converged into one experience: crab for dinner. I’ve eaten fresh crab many times before (yum!), and of course my Pahpa always prepares the crab for me. He painstakingly cracks open the shell with his hands and squeezes all of the meat out onto a plate and then hands it to me with his wonderful, partially tooth-less smile. Not only do I adore this, but I really appreciate it because I have got absolutely no clue how to get the meat out of a crab shell. Well, tonight I decided that it was time I learned, so my Pahpa gladly took on the duty of teaching me.
Now, as part of their continued assistance in my language learning, my family members have come to know how to best explain things to me and which words to use to ensure I understand. But, since my Pahpa can’t actually hear any of the things we talk about, he has no knowledge of my vocabulary. So our crab lesson began with several strings of sentences that I completely didn’t understand. But, our trusty failsafe—charades—came through in a big way and I was eventually able to liberate some meat from the crab legs. All the while, my Nohno looked on and howled with laughter at my incompetence and my Pahpa giggled happily at my determination. It was a wonderful experience.
And as a reward for my success, my Pahap scooped a particularly colorful meat blob out of the main body cavity and excitedly plopped it on my plate and told me to try it. Here’s were communicating with my Pahpa is literally essential. What am I about to put in my mouth? I obviously don’t know all the Pohnpeian words for internal organs, so I began to panic and steal glances at my Nohno who was now overwhelmed by her laughter and completely unable to assist me. I Pahpa just continued to point to his own abdomen and enthusiastically insist that I eat it. In some alternate universe, I might have tried to politely refuse this mystery meat, but instead I did what you do when you get offered questionable food in the Peace Corps: I just ate it. And you know what? I was quite tasty. My Pahpa was literally giddy with happiness.
When I came here, I expected to become close to my family, to sincerely care for them and wish good things for their futures. But I guess I didn’t expect the deep, genuine love and admiration that I feel for my Pahpa. He has lived a life far different from my own and it is likely that we will never fully understand each other, but he is an incredible man and I am lucky to know him.
I think this, these personal connections are what Peace Corps is really about. We are here under the guise of working as teachers, but we’re really here to get covered in slimy crab meat with our Pahpas.
And I’m totally okay with that.
--Christy
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